Oh honey, you've got a long way to go

Officially cleared by the doctor, Bug and I tried the Aqua Fit class yesterday at the club, where we were joined by five sasssssssy grandmas and one slightly overweight girl of indeterminate age.

I was in the pool first and slowly walked from one end to the other to make sure I had my "sea legs." The water felt MARVELOUS. My hips had instant relief. Magic!

A woman gets in shortly after me (we'll call her Fran). I'm slowly paddling along when I hear her talking -- although with the monstrous echo in the pool, I have no idea who she is talking to, let alone what she's saying. There are a few other ladies now on the pool deck that I assume she is saying hi to, so I ignore her. Bad idea. The talking gets a little sharper before I realize that she is talking to me. She wants me to help her move all of the lane dividers. I hated doing this when I was on the synchronized swimming team (yes, it's true) in junior high/high school, and I certainly didn't feel like doing it now. Age before beauty, I did it anyway.

She then walks over to me and asks when I'm due. When I tell her that I'm due the first week of April, she grips my arm (I'm serious when I say grip) and says to me, with, I daresay, a bit of pity, "Oh honey, you've got a long way to go." Three months, I say to her, and she gives me this look like I have no idea what I'm talking about (I swear, people hear "April" and automatically assume four months. It's not. It's three months and a week.) She then rounds it out with a, "and you're so big already," and swims away. Applause.

Our instructor comes out finally and immediately picks me out as the newbie (I suppose this was not difficult at all). She introduces herself as Charlene, and shakes my hand. I can barely understand what she's saying, and know her name only because she is wearing a name tag. I am boggled by the insistence these women have with trying to hold conversations across the pool. It just sounds like noise. Chickens clucking in a GIGANTIC, ECHOING ROOM FULL OF WATER.

Charlene asks me if I am OK to exercise, and I tell her I was just cleared. She gives me a concerned look when she says that this class is "quite aerobic." I tell her that I will just go at my own pace. Fran announces to the class that I'm due in April.

We start with walking lengths of the pool while making elaborate arm movements. We do something like eight lengths, and I am shot. Fran makes sure she leads each lap by three body-lengths. There are a few times where I don't make it to the other end, and just sort of turn around in the middle so I'm at least doing the same arms as everyone else.

After warm ups, I drink half my bottle of water. It is really f-ing warm in there, and the humidity (along with my pregnancy) is making it increasingly difficult to breathe. The last thing I want to have is a panic attack in the middle of the pool, so I try and focus on something else, but now Charlene has turned on the boombox while she yells instructions and the noise is cacophonous.

I keep up with the ladies for about, umm, 30 seconds. The bouncing up and down is just not for me at this point in time. Some of the girls are seriously half-assing it, and Charlene is riding them hard. "STRAIGHTEN your arms, ladies! STRAIGHT! CHEST UP!" I think Charlene knows I'm fading, and has stopped making eye contact with me. I go get more water.

I ride it out for another 15 minutes, doing just the arm portion of the movements. I know that I am not getting the full aerobic benefit, but it's just feeling like too much. This is insanely humbling as I watch (the boobies!) bouncing to my left. I remind myself being pregnant is only temporary, and I will be back to having 20-30 mile weeks before the end of 2010.

I drain my water bottle and use this as an excuse to stop so I can refill. Getting out of the pool sort of sucks. Hello, gravity! I feel like I weigh 15 pounds more. One thing being pregnant has given me is a lack of self-consciousness, so I don't even try and rearrange my plastered-on swimming suit (hey, when you were always concerned about the size of your stomach, and that's now the socially acceptable large part, things are pretty OK).

I get back in the water, and decide to ride it out until 9:30, which means I've been "exercising" for 30 minutes. I have seven more minutes to go. I continue arm movements and then slowly sort of back away and get out of the pool again. Those ladies can think whatever they want.

I shower and change clothes. Matt has been doing something fun this whole time, like running, although I don't see him upstairs so I assume he's already changing. The pool area has big windows that look over the lobby, and as I walk by I see the ladies still bouncing away. I debate for five seconds if I should avert my eyes, and then I remember that it was just exciting to be doing SOMETHING for thirty minutes.

If I had a pool in my basement I would take all meals there, and probably attempt sleeping in it as well. Aerobics instructor not necessary.